


Ghost King Solace

by nicostolemybones (fatherlords)



Series: Will Solace birthday week 2k19 [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Apollo!Nico, M/M, Oriented Aroace, Queerplatonic Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Queerplatonic relationship, aroace, aroace solangelo, depressed gays, gay aroace, godswap, hades!will, nico and will swap godly parents, queerplatonic, queerplatonic solangelo, will being badass, will is a disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatherlords/pseuds/nicostolemybones
Summary: New campers are surprised to find out that Will Solace is the son of Hades, and Nico di Angelo is the son of ApolloI do not give permission for my work to appear on any apps nor do I consent to my work being reposted anywhere. If you see my work outside of my tumblr or outside of any blogs/accounts I mention in my fics, please report/contact them or inform me. If you report them, do not report as if it were your own work.My tumblr is @nicohasahappymeal





	1. Out of Place

When the newest campers arrived at Camp Half Blood and received the standard tour and basic history, they were left wondering which camper they absolutely had to avoid- because Cabin 13 was terrifyingly dark, and from what they’d heard, children of Hade tended to be on the wrong side of morality. Cabin 13 currently had pitch black walls, carved from obsidian, tourmaline, black tiger’s eye, onyx- just about every black crystal one could imagine. The roof twisted into a spire, an empty bell tower at the top looming over camp and casting a sharp shadow on the ground, extending out like the cabin was trying to pull you in, a black carpet of shadows inviting you in a your peril. The door was deadbolted- in fact, there was a large bolt on the outside. The door was wooden, with a tiny window embedded in- the window had bars running through it, like it was repurposed from a prison or an old psychiatric hospital. The cabin seemed designed to keep people in, and to keep people out. It was pitch black inside, impossible to see in, although they figured that if the inhabitant was to stand right close to the window, then the light outside would be enough to show their face. In fact, when they saw a pale figure move across the window, they screamed and ran.

By the time the tour was over, they figured the inhabitant was most likely Nico di Angelo. He seemed to fit the tone of the cabin- he was terrifying, to say the least. He was five foot three and ninety eight pounds of pure spite, eyes like brown glass and dark black curls unruly and untamed, jutting out like bat wings. He was pale and gaunt, the slight hint of an olive undertone only visible if he stepped into the sunlight. The boy was silent when he walked, appearing behind people and speaking without a warning. He wore clothes as dark as his personality appeared to be, with gruesome images of zombies and ghosts and graveyards and heavy metal bands. His boots had thick platform soles, metal screwed and bolted and riveted into the them, buckes all up the side and laces all up the front, purple leather flames snaking up the toes, the heels, and the top of the boots.

However, everybody was rather surprised when, during a game of Capture the Flag, the boy was seen to shoot an arrow at a particularly violent Ares camper and run full pelt to a wounded Athena kid, dropping to his side and emptying the contents of a medical kit. The boy worked quickly to irrigate and treat the wound, hands glowing a warm dark amber, like embers, as he sang a hymn to Apollo and healed the wound with the light. The boy was a son of Apollo, which evidently, left everybody confused.

That’s also why, of course, they were so surprised when they finally saw the Son of Hades. The chill in the air was enough warning that something terrible was probably going to happen and they were probably going to die in the forest before they’d graduated middle school. They were even more surprised when Will Solace stepped through the shadows, strutting confidently as the smoky tendrils seemed to dance around him, wrapping around his arms as he raised them, the earth shaking and splitting as skeletons clawed their way out like bone spiders, following him forwards. Holy shit, he was scary and cool. He lifted an arm, and the shadows extended from him like whips, tendrils of darkness lashing out at the Ares campers who were attempting to get to di Angelo. Seeing the Ares campers who had spent their mornings shoving the new campers’ heads into toilets now running like their life depended on it was certainly something that sparked joy amongst the newcomers. It was when the shadows finally retreated that they were able to properly take in the walking contradiction that was Will Solace.

The boy was a fashion disaster. He should not be allowed to dress himself, they figured. He was wearing a horrible bright orange shirt- not even a camp shirt, which would have been a forgiven fashion faux-pas, but a neon orange shirt with “geek” scrawled across it. To make matters worse, he had a green button down over the top, but it wasn’t moss green or forest green or mint green, but rather mould green, neon green, and snot green plaid. And the as if two layers in the middle of summer wasn’t enough, he wore a yellow leather women’s jacket over the top- but damn was the jacket to die for. However, on the back was a badly painted stylized sun. The boy also wore the worst shorts they had ever seen- neon blue with suns and clouds and beath umbrellas and ice creams and parrots and way too many hand drawn flowers scrawled on in felt tips bleeding out and smudging. And finally, neon pink flip flops with matching loom bands. But damn did that boy wear those clothes with a confidence they’d never seen before. It was very clear that Will Solace couldn’t give two shits what people thought of him, because it was clear that he was dressing for himself and nobody else, and if that boy wanted to wear an outfit that clashed, he’d wear an outfit that clashed. He glared at everybody, an unspoken challenge of ‘say something, I dare you’ in his eyes. 

And just like that, with a wink to a very flustered and distracted Nico di Angelo, Will sprinted into the shadows, smoky tendrils still radiating up from the dead grass footsteps he left behind. 

In the next few days, the new campers quickly realised that Will Solace was, to put it impolitely, a little ray of fucking sunshine. He handed out bright yellow lollipops to campers, set up a lemonade stall, stuck post-it notes with compliments on camper’s backs to make them smile, picked sunflowers to decorate all the cabins, and even made the cat-like Nico blush. Despite not knowing him, the new campers instantly felt safe and comfortable around him. He radiated unconditional love. Campers felt empowered to express themselves, because if Will could wear whatever he wanted, then so could they, why not? In fact, when one of the recently claimed boys from the Aphrodite cabin was being teased by a bunch of Ares campers for wearing a skirt, Will Solace appeared from the shadows behind them, tapped the leader on the shoulder, and punched him in the face. He sent them running, then put a gentle arm around the boy and invited him to sit with him and his friends- who just so happened to include THE Percy Jackson who they’d only heard of in camp legend. All of the most popular, most respected members of camp were there, and Will made sure everybody invited the boy in with open arms. Ghost King Solace was everybody’s ally, and camp life was just a little bit less grim with him by everyone’s side.


	2. Morose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: depression, death mention

The inside of the Hades cabin was a stark contrast to the outside, in that the inside was sombre, morose, rather than spooky and unsettling. The beds were sparse, old worn out coffins that looked as though they had been pulled from the ground, dirt in the cervices of the handles and woodrot from natural decay. They weren’t very comfortable to sleep on top of, and there wasn’t much space to sleep inside them either, so Ghost King Solace would sleep on the floor. The floor was stone, tourmaline, and rough and ridged with large gaps between each stone. It was always cold, although the black was prone to warming up after a while of laying on it. The walls were snowflake obsidian, making Will wonder if the design had been to resemble spotted wallpaper for comfort. There was something that felt so small about it when you needed space, yet so big about it when you felt alone. The altar in the corner was topped off with a shrine to Hades, several candles and the charred remains of burial shrouds lining the top. And finally, a plinth stood smack in the middle, and with two steps, you were able to view the display on top- an open casket, for the recently deceased. 

Will was used to sleeping in the same room as a corpse whilst people walked in and out, as though the room was merely a chapel of rest. Will found himself sitting awake at night, clutching the crow’s skull on his necklace like his life depended on it, because he hoped, prayed, that there was life somewhere out there, beyond being a demigodly undertaker.

Nico di Angelo was no stranger to the cold bitter darkness of Will’s cabin- after all, the healer had lost his fair share of comrades in battle, so Will often found him sat with his back to the casket, whispering softly and letting himself go limp, staring vacantly at the wall, draped like a corpse over the steps, like he wanted to be dead, waiting for the aura of death in the cabin to slowly allow him to drift off in the night. He looked depressed, but he covered it well during the day. Will wondered what it was that made Nico so vulnerable and raw in Will’s cabin. Then he supposed death must be sobering, for those who haven’t relied on the dead for company. Will supposed he’d gotten cold in his experience, clinical. He wondered if Nico ever felt the same in the infirmary, compassion fatigued, a set of procedures and a simple white sheet over a face, just another child, just another day, unable to feel because he felt too much. 

Will found himself watching Nico as he seemed to open up again to the fresh corpse in the casket, but this time, there was no corpse. He wondered if Nico might be talking to him, but he was muttering softly, a poem… 

Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I did not die…

Will understood now. Nico wasn’t mourning anybody, he was mourning himself. Will understood how it felt when things changed so much, when you changed so much, that everybody around you grieves for you. He’d had trans campers terrified that they’d forever be mourned instead of celebrated, dying campers wishing their family weren’t already saying goodbye, and he had Nico, who was so lonely he may as well be dead. No wonder he lay like a corpse, Will mused, when he was already dead in the eyes of everyone else. 

It felt sobering. 

Morose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm finally updating this one, hopefully regularly!


	3. Harlequin smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more angst, I'm afraid, in this chapter but I'm proud of it and I feast off the tears of my readers

Will finally went over to Nico, sitting beside him on the steps. Nico looked close to tears, and honestly, there was nothing not worrying about his current behaviour. “Hey Nico... you good?” 

“I’m fine,” Nico replied softly, but Will wasn’t buying any of it.

“Yeah, me neither,” he replied, and they fell into a comfortable silence. There was something so comforting about just sitting next to him in silence, thinking silently, or not thinking at all. It felt familiar and comforting, perfectly domestic and plentifully sweet. Will could hear the patter of rain outside the cabin, and through the high barred window, a slither of moonlight illuminated Nico’s face. He was shivering, glowing softly in the dark. Nico always felt cold, but not to touch. He was always warm, hot even, with a higher body temperature than normal, but he always felt cold. Will always felt warm, but he was always told that he was freezing. 

“I just… alone,” Nico sighed, and Will shuffled a tiny bit closer. Nico pulled his legs up to his chest, huffing a tiny sigh.

“Me too,” Will replied, and Nico scoffed lightly.

“You’re surrounded by people.”

“So are you,” Will replied softly, “but nobody I can open up to, or trust, or be sad around. I guess you’re the only person I feel truly comfortable with, like I don’t have to talk or smile or put on a happy mask when I’m not okay.”

“Sap,” Nico replied, although there was no malice in his tone. They fell into comfortable silence again before Nico finally seemed to have found the right words. “I see so many people every day,” he began, “I help people to heal and I pour my energy into healing them, but I can still feel them judging me and itching to be away from me. Like I’m toxic, poison, like my darkness is- is consuming them too. Then when they pass, everything feels calm and I can’t feel because I’m so exhausted from the empathy it takes to heal that I just… I’m so used to death it’s become a comfortable routine to be around.”

“The dead are so quiet sometimes you feel allowed to rest, to think. They make me restful. Being around people all day, knowing they only like me because of fear or because I’m different, it… it feels good to be around the dead, where everyone is equal and free of obligations. It feels good to sit here in silence, knowing somebody is colder than me, that somebody once lived, that I’m the person to watch over their final sleep… it feels like I’m normal for once, like I’m not expected to smile, because it’s a sombre duty. I feel calm because I’m allowed to feel sad without being told I should be happy.”

Nico hummed gently in response, resting his head on Will’s shoulder. Nico was touch averse, yet he seemed to be comforting the both of them. It was such a simple gesture, a tiny contact, but it felt like miles of distance had been closed. It felt like Nico had built a bridge across a choppy sea in a storm, stood on the other side holding his hand out for Will to take and promising to never let go. It felt like Nico was truly there for him, like it was okay to let go, to fall, to let himself break, because Nico was there to hold him, and Will couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, crying quietly, resting his head against the plinth. Nico reached over him and took his hand gently, rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles with his thumb. Will heard him sniffle, and realised that he was also holding his hand out for Nico to take across the bridge, and they were both reaching out, and both taking the other’s hand. They were accepting that it was okay to fall apart with each other like they couldn’t with others, because they understood each other so very deeply and truly, and they made each other feel real.

So they cried together, not talking, not explaining, because they didn’t need to. They were there, they were not okay, and that was acceptable. They gave each other the permission to fall apart because it went unspoken that the other would comfort them through it. It felt so domestic that Will’s heart ached, because Nico cared about him, truly cared for him. Nico didn’t like Will’s happiness, or Will’s outgoingness, or his outspokenness. Nico was drawn to Will’s truth, and he understood it truly, deeply, personally. Nico didn’t like Will’s confidence, he understood his vulnerability. Nico wasn’t drawn to Will because he was cool, or because he could fix him, but because he felt honest. Everything about this felt honest and raw and real and it was okay to break, and be comforted, and it was okay to allow himself intimacy, something deep and raw and real, and not a painted harlequin smile.


	4. Comfortable

Will finally felt numb. Not that he didn't always feel like this, but he felt calm. Nico's head was still on his shoulder, unmoving, exhausted from the crying but ever unable to sleep. Will eventually rested his head atop Nico's, and despite the cold floor and the chill of the spirits, Will felt warm. Nico was warm. Neither of them wanted to move, so they didn't move. Will felt at peace for once, at rest. He wondered if this is how the dead felt, except Will didn't feel unburdened. He felt heavy. But that was okay, because he wasn't the only one. He had so much swimming in his mind, so much he needed to get out. 

"Neeks, I think I might be gay," Will blurted, and Nico stayed silent for a little too long.

"Are you okay with that," Nico asked quietly, and that wasn't what Will had been expecting. And he didn't know how to answer. "Will?"

"I… don't know," he answered truthfully, "are you uncomfortable?"

"Of course not. What makes you think you might be gay?"

"I think I fell in love with a guy," Will answered honestly, "but I've never been in love before, or been attracted to anyone before, so I don't know if I'm just- confusing admiration and friendship for something more. I've never fell in love with a girl before."

"Is what you feel for this guy more than friendship?"

"I think so," Will answered, frowning. "It's more intense than friendships. I know objectively he's really cute and I can imagine myself kissing him or spending my life with him but I'm not… I don't think I feel the things I'm supposed to feel. I don't feel butterflies or some strong pull, I just… I feel comfortable around him. It's nothing like how people describe crushes, but this feels more than friendship. It's such a deep connection I think I have with him."

"Have you thought you might be aroace?" Nico asked quietly, and Will frowned.

"I'm not incapable of love. I just- don't feel it like I'm supposed to. Everyone's exaggerating." Will looked like a kicked puppy, nervously picking at his nails.

"Being aroace doesn't mean you can't love someone. I mean you love your mom and your friends and your siblings. That's love. Just a different type of love. You could love someone intensely enough to consider yourself in love with them, just not romantic love, you know? Platonic love is still love, it doesn't have to be romantic to be valid. You're not broken."

"Who would want to date someone who couldn't feel romantic love for them? Or sexual attraction to them?"

"Someone who loves you too, someone who understands that your feelings might be different to theirs, or someone who's ace or aro or both just like you are. And not every relationship has to be a carbon copy of a hallmark movie."

"I was reading about queerplatonic partnerships," Will began quietly, "like, a relationship, dating, but not romantic. But more than friends. Each relationship is different but if you want you can still kiss or say you love each other, but it's not romantic and it's not friendship. It's somewhere in between. It's more than friendship. Maybe if I'm aroace, then I could still have a relationship, because I want one. I want a relationship badly. It wouldn't come with the expectation of romantic feelings, but the type of love I can feel would be- valid."

"And you can have that one day," Nico said quietly, "but you have to talk to the guy first. If he's gay too he might like you back."

"If he doesn't then I might lose the only person I feel comfortable around," Will admitted, and Nico squeezed his hand. 

"I'm aroace too," Nico confessed, "oriented aroace, I'm gay. And… I feel the same way. About you."

"How did you-"

"You don't exactly have many friends, Will," Nico replied bluntly, followed by a quick "no offence." He took a breath, and turned to face Will properly. Will turned too, and Nico nervously bounced his knee. "I understand how you feel, because I'm the same as you. I won't expect romantic feelings or attraction, I don't feel it either. But I care about you, more than I've ever cared for anyone else before. I can imagine kissing you or cuddling you without it feeling wrong, I can imagine being more than friends with you. I can imagine telling you I love you, and you understanding that whilst I don't mean romantically, it means more than friendship. I like you, your company, I feel comfortable enough to explore some kind of more than friends relationship with you. And it's complicated because it's not romantic love and people won't understand how more than friends but not romantic works, but our relationship wouldn't be for them, it would be for us. No expectations from each other apart from honesty and loyalty."

"Gods," Will began, tears welling up, "I never thought anyone would understand how I felt. I felt like I was wrong, like being with someone would be cruel, because I can't feel that way about anyone. I wouldn't get butterflies or I wouldn't love someone in the same way they could love me. And I tried, I tried to feel crushes and fall in love. I'd feel secure knowing I could be with someone, date someone, who'd never expect that of me. So uh… queerplatonic partners? More than friends? Cuddlebuddies?"

"Yeah," Nico smiled softly, linking their pinkies together, "partners in crime. My arrowace- boyfriend?"

"Good pun. And yeah? Do we uh-" Nico leaned in and kissed Will's cheek, and they both laughed softly. "It feels like a weight's been lifted," Will said softly, "like I finally fit in somewhere. I'm not broken. Just… different. It feels like things are gonna be okay."

"Things are okay," Nico replied, blushing slightly. Will figured he might have been blushing too.


End file.
